


I feel the ice is slowly melting

by LostMe



Series: Here comes the sun [3]
Category: Hotel Transylvania (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostMe/pseuds/LostMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dracula, who has thought that he would spend eternity alone, cold, a weapon no more useful in peace times, was for the first time capable of seeing a different future. A future of cozy nights in front of the fireplace, of gentle caresses under the stars, of shared jokes while flying, of silly dance sessions that started on the ground and ended on the ceiling. A life of shared friendship, respect, admiration and love.<br/>Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.</p>
<p>Sequel to Little Darling</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Little Darling".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody. Thank you for reading this! There is something here I need to say. I believe you all had read the previous parts of this series "It's been a long cold lonely winter" and "Little Darling" before getting to this point (well, no real problem if you didn't, but I would be happy if you could do it!) and it came to my attention that some stereotypes about foreign culture must be really screwd. You see, I'm Brazilian, and all I know about anything out from America is rather influenced by Hollywood (not a good source of information at all) and although I did made some googling, that I got things wrong is almost a given. So, please don't get offended if I say something absurd and, for everething that is sacred, DO NOT believe in anything you read here. Well, what came to my attention is that "in Chinese tradition, we consider dragons as gods that rule water, so they hardly breathe fire. But there's another creature called Hou (in Chinese written as "犼") that breathes fire and eats beasts.". Well, I went to google again (my mistake) and found that I could actually mistake a Hou for a dragon if I saw one (because I dont have dragons in my culture, you know? So what if I call a Maritaca a parrot? They are all green- seriously, look up a Maritaca in google). So I think it is reasonably that Frank and Eunice would also mess things. About the bat and dog eating, it is a urban legend here in Brazil that chinese people eat strange things (for us, at least) so it might as well be something my fictional monsters believe and are afraid of, even if it may be not true. I'm deeply sorry if I have offended anybody in writting this.
> 
> So, if you see anything that bothers you, please do tell me. I probably will not correct the history (because I believe in letting things as they were conceived aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm awfully lazy) but I probably will avoid to commit the same error again. So thank you all for reading and lets hope this gets somewhere someday!

When they completed 9 years of marriage, they had gone to the opera. Martha has fallen asleep on Dracula’s shoulder. In that moment, looking at his wife’s serene and happy face, Dracula realized he had everything he could have dreamed about. He has found his zing and his mate in a funny, beautiful and gentle immortal being. 

Dracula, who has thought that he would spend eternity alone, cold, a weapon no more useful in peace times, was for the first time capable of seeing a different future. A future of cozy nights in front of the fireplace, of gentle caresses under the stars, of shared jokes while flying, of silly dance sessions that started on the ground and ended on the ceiling. A life of shared friendship, respect, admiration and love. And the time passed. And it was still so, so perfect!

From the first day, in one way or another, Martha has done only one thing toward her zing: she had cherished him. And Dracula has vowed to return the favor in all possible ways, and has lived just for Martha’s smile, for their almost fifty years of marriage. 

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

 “And then Frank lost his legs and started running with his hands instead!” Eunice yelled, laughing (a bit of) her lungs out (literally).

“With the dragon going after him?” Wayne asked, also laughing.

“YES! And every time the dragon asked what was wrong a new bust of fire would escape his breath and Frank would run more!” The female golem answered.

“IT WAS NOT FUNNY!” Frank replied, but even Wanda and Martha were smiling.

“Now I regret not going with you guys to China.” Wayne said. 

“That place is hell! They breathe fire, eat dogs and bats!” Frank replied, sulking inside his giant arms.

“Don’t be like that, Frank! It was really nice, we could go again, all together this time!” Eunice replied.

Dracula was quietly listening to the conversation, seated in his armchair. Martha was seated in her own armchair, placed next to his, and was gently caressing his hand, that was palm up in the armrest. She also was listening to Eunice telling of their last trip, when a sudden tension in her husband’s hand got her attention.

“Honey? What’s wrong?” She asked.

“O come on, Prince of Drackness… It would be fun! Always so reluctant to leave his home!” Eunice complained, but nobody was paying attention to her anymore.

“Drack?” Martha tried to draw his attention again.

“My father is coming.” The vampire replied, staring ahead.

Frank that was in the middle of drinking a hot chocolate with frog eyes choked in it and spilled half the liquid in the floor. Wayne’s jaw has fell and was almost touching his chest. The women were stunned as well.

“Your father? The Supreme King?” Eunice asked, although much more quietly than she was speaking a few seconds ago.

“What could he want with you now?” Asked a perplexed Wayne.  

“Honey, are you sure?” Martha asked, but it was obvious he was sure. There were small tremors running Dracula’s body and his grip on her hand has suddenly got tight, almost painful.  After they got married and Dracula’s fears of hurting Martha has been placated, it was the first time she has seen her husband look truly scared of something.

“Drack…” Eunice started, but Dracula himself interrupted her.

“You all should leave. He will be here any time now. You need to go to somewhere safe.”

“And where exactly is safe from him?”Wayne asked, sadly looking to Wanda.

“The furthest from him. Or me.” Dracula replied.

Martha tightened her hold on his hand, but he was getting up. She let his hand free. One by one, the monsters silently got their leave. Frank tried to say something, but was without words. 

“You also should go, dear. You won’t be safe near me.” Dracula whispered some silent minutes after, hating himself for saying this, but needing to.

In a moment, Martha got up and was standing behind her husband, with her hands on his shoulders.

“We don’t even know what your father wants…”

“IT DOES NOT MATTER!“ Dracula snapped. 

“Honey. You don’t need to face this alone.”  

“What he wants… He gets. It does not matter what it is. I will do it. And if you stay in the way, you will be eliminated. Please, just go. I wouldn’t…“

“Dracula. If he wanted me dead, I would already be dead. We can face whatever else he wants  together. Do you think…”

“I don’t know. It makes no sense he would need me for anything. Any heir more powerful than him was eliminated in the Dark War. There is no blood lineage strong enough to create another Dark Lord…”

They have talked about it before. A hybrid baby born from a female vampire with any other monster could have vampiric powers, but would only be strong enough as the non vampiric parent. A vampire father and non vampire mother was impossible. A pure vampire would only inherit the more powerful traces of their parents, so they would be stronger than his parents. The problem was that a vampire mother would not conceive or survive the pregnancy if the baby’s father is stronger than her. Dracula’s mother was the most powerful Dark Lady in existence, probably as powerful as his father, and although she conceived she wasn’t able to survive the gestation. That was why Dracula wasn’t worried about any stronger heir than him. He was, himself, a miracle, and that was why he wasn’t expecting to have children. Also there wasn’t any possibility of a match between vampires that would produce one more powerful than him, or his father, and even if that was possible the child would need at least eighty years to be a real threat. The unbalance caused by their birth would be enough to alert them.  Dracula would have felt it too.

“Maybe… Maybe another kind of monster?” Martha asked

“I would have felt it… At least I hope I would…” Dracula started. “Martha, please…”

But before she could answer, all the candles in the castle were blown out and door by door were opening for Dracula’s father.


	2. Chapter 2

Vlad looked as an old man. With white hair, rugged skin and very severe eyes. Dracula didn’t know it was possible for a vampire to look so old. But an old vampire is not a less dangerous one. As Vlad calmly walking to the couple, Dracula has positioned Martha between him and the wall, trying instinctively to shield her from his father, but knowing there was nothing about it that he could do.  
  
“Let her go.” Vlad said, looking straight to Dracula’s eyes.  
  
“Father, please…” Dracula replied, but Vlad interrupted him. “Ridiculous boy. Get out of the way!”  
  
After hearing this, Dracula’s body has gone rigid and in controlled steps he was out his father’s path.  
  
Vlad came nearer Martha and looked deeply inside her eyes. She never looked away.  
  
“Tell me, young lady, why have you expected to live your barely immortal life at the Prince of Darkness side?”  
  
Martha looked at her husband, and saw that he was plastered in the farthest wall from her and his father, with an absolutely terrified expression.  
  
“Not at the Prince of Darkness side, my king. I vowed to live at the side of the vampire I love, regardless of his title.”  
  
“She is a draft of a vampire at best. And she is still braver than you.” The old monster said. “You, come here.”  
  
Dracula came. Vlad looked straight into his eyes, saw all the fear his son was feeling in that moment and said:  
  
“I’ve not seen you in 380 years and you are still the same frightened child. Say something!”  
  
“Father… I…” But Dracula didn’t know what to say.  
  
“You won the Dark War, but you are still worthless, kid. You don’t deserve any of this. Even your ridiculous wife will see how weak you are and leave.”  
  
And then the old vampire was going away. Martha opened her mouth to ask Vlad what was all this about, but the trembling hands of her husband and his frightened eyes stopped her. And just like this, Vlad was gone.  
  
“Why would he come here to… Honey?” Martha started to ask, but seeing his husband falling into his knees in the middle of the room got her attention. She kneeled at his side and embraced him.  
  
“Love… He is gone. It is alright now.” She said, passing her fingers throw his soft hair.  
  
“He will come back. He wanted something that he saw we couldn’t give, so he went away. But he will come back for whatever it was…” He replied.  
  
“And we will worry about it the day it comes.” She said, before kissing his forehead.  
  
“I’m so sorry I… I…”  
  
“Shhh. He is gone, and we are fine. Let’s get some rest, okay?”  
  
Dracula nodded and slowly got on his feet. Martha accompanied him to their shared room and Dracula lay in their bed with his face tucked between Martha’s neck and shoulder, with his hand over her heart. Soothed by her smell, heartbeat and the gentle fingers still caressing his hair, he fell asleep. Martha stayed awake for some hours yet, repeating to herself that everything was going to be fine.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
The first thing that changed was so subtle Martha didn’t even notice. It was not that uncommon that Dracula would forget to eat. They hunted together, and sometimes it was difficult to really assess if he was drinking or just catching the prey. But as the weeks passed, it was becoming really obvious that something was wrong.  
  
“You have been losing weight.” She stated one night.  
  
Dracula didn’t respond.  
  
“Honey… Please, talk to me. Are you still worried about your father? How can I help?”  
  
Dracula hugged her. Martha held him tight, and repeated to herself that eventually everything would be fine.  
  
She was wrong.  
  
The second thing that changed was also subtle, but Martha was paying attention. It was common that Dracula would have nightmares. It was also not that unusual that said nightmares would disturb their marital bed. Dracula would grow agitated in his sleep and wake in a start. He would be lost at first, but Martha’s presence would be enough to soothe him back to sleep. She didn’t even wake anymore for this. But although the frequency of the nightmares hadn’t changed, the intensity certainly has. Dracula never screamed or cried in his sleep. However, he stopped waking in a start. Now he wakes up slowly, opening one eye at a time, and stays at their bed, trembling, focused on the roof. Sometimes his cold (so cold) hand finds Martha’s under the covers and that is when she wakes. And although he is calm, Martha knows that this is worse, because now it is like he is conformed that whatever he has seen in his nightmares will continue when he is awake. Every time Martha hugs her husband, and prays for him to be fine.  
  
And then this has happened, and it was obvious for Martha that nothing would be fine. That day, just some minutes before the sunset, Dracula has gotten out of their shared bed and by his own will walked into the sun.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Martha awoke with the sound of the door closing, to see her husband enveloped by the last light of sunset. In her desperation, Martha got the curtains in their bedroom and followed. When she reached him she enveloped both of them in the fabric and held his body near hers until the sun has gone.  
  
Although her own skin was slightly burned from some very weak sunbeams filtered by the curtains, she was more worried about his husband state. Both physical as mental. As the night came, she got both of them inside their castle. And she cried, and she screamed, and asked repeatedly why he has done that. What was he trying to do? Dracula never responded.  
  
And then, some desperate hours later, after Martha has literally pushed some blood over Dracula’s throat, Frank and Eunice arrived. Frank told Martha that Dracula has done it before. That he thought the vampire would be fine now that he has met Martha. She remembered a small scar caused by a silver sword and grew really desperate. After all, she had tried with all her forces to cherish him, to convince him that he was truly loved, for fifty years.  
  
She was his zing. If she was not enough, what would be? Dracula clearly was not strong enough to come out of this depression alone.  
  
“Drack, love. Please, please talk to me.” She tried again, after Frank and Eunice had gone to bed.  
  
Dracula looked at her, and after some seconds whispered:  
  
“You are still hurt. You should not have come.”  
  
Martha looked at her still slightly burned skin. It was paining her, but she was so worried about her husband that she almost hadn’t noticed. She was relieved that Dracula’s skin has healed at least. She would worry about hers later.  
  
“I didn’t mean to sadden you. I just thought it would hurt less than seeing you leaving.” He said, quietly.  
  
That stunned her. She hugged him close to her body.  
  
“I’m not leaving dear.” She said, with her face buried in his hair.  
  
“You will.” He said, embracing her waist.  
  
“No, I won’t. Why would I?” She asked, pushing his face away so she could look at his eyes.  
  
“You will see how weak I am and then you will leave.” He answered.  
  
Martha had a terrifying memory of her husband saying he might walk in the sun the day she wanted something that he could not give.  
  
“Love, what are you talking about?”  
  
“I am still worthless. I don’t deserve any of this.”  
  
“Honey…” She knew those words. And that wasn’t something she wanted Dracula believing. “Love, your father was wrong. You know that, don’t you?”  
  
“I’m a thing no more useful. Unlovable. I can’t give you anything.” He was saying, shaking his head frenetically.  
  
“No! I love you! What would I do without you?”  
  
“You were always braver than me.” He said, looking away.  
  
“Drack…”  
  
“When I turn to ashes, if the wind carries me back to you, would you let me stay near?”  
  
Martha hugged him again.  
  
“Dracula…” She started saying, pressing him against her body.  
  
“I want to live in your hair. Please let me stay with you.”  
  
“Just don’t go anywhere.” She said. Eventually Dracula fell asleep, Martha hugged him and cried.


	3. Chapter 3

Two nights after, and Martha wounds have not healed. George, Laura and Griffin came by, and while the not so little Griffin was with Frank and Dracula, Laura and Eunice were cooking some worm pancakes and Martha was talking to George.

“For what you’re saying, at least his father has not ordered to kill himself. This reaction must be about something he convinced himself.” George pondered.

“Attempting suicide is a reaction to the depression, and the depression was triggered by something his father said.”She said, frowning to the words ‘suicide’ and ‘depression’ although she herself has used them to describe the situation.

 “It may be true. But if he has taken his father words as an order, it is impossible to convince him of the contrary. If that triggered this suicidal wish, how to help him?” The invisible man asked.

“But there must be a way. I need to do something.” She said.

“Only someone that owns his blood may be strong enough to prompt a compulsion. Maybe if his father…”

“Even if he cared, a health Dracula was terrified his father would come back. Now I just  don’t know what he would do…”

“Martha… Do you know why it is such a taboo for a vampire to drink another vampire’s blood? It is because they will enslave the vampire. You may be able to provoke a similar reaction to Dracula’s psyche if you drink his blood.”

Martha was thunderstruck.

“I could not live with him if he was my slave!”

“It is also the only way to heal your wounds.”

“And then what? I tell him that he is not worthless, that I will not leave him and then just do it because I can’t stand he not having his free will around me?”

“It probably will be temporary. But whatever he understands as an order, he will never forget. You need to be careful. Not using his name may be crucial for avoiding the compulsion.”

His name. Dracula would respond to Dracula and use it as his name, but the truth was that he didn’t have any. It was his family surname. He was as much The Prince of Darkness, the Dark Lord or The Dracula Heir as he was just Drack, Drake or even the prince of Drackness, as they got to call him when he was being anti-social or too old fashioned. The truth was that his father has always considered him a weapon, a thing, and as such never properly named him.  That always only saddened Martha, who took his family name as hers, but could not give him a name herself. So she got to call him dear, honey, love and so much other pet names, and he always seemed pleased. To what would he respond? What would he take as an order? After all, Vlad has called his son ‘you’ and ‘kid’ and that was enough to destroy their lives.

In that moment, Griffin (probably) was pulling Dracula’s hand and bringing him back to the room.

“He is not funny anymore. I think he wants you.” The invisible kid said.

“Griffin… What have we talked about?” George asked, exasperate.

“You said he was quieter. He was always quiet. It didn’t matter. He is not quieter. He is empty. Martha always made him happier. Can you make him happier?” The kid asked.

Martha didn’t know how to answer this. She surely hoped she could. With all her forces, she extended her hand to her husband and smiled.

“Come here, dear.  So Griffin, what have you done lately?”

Dracula seated himself at her side as the kid told them his last adventures. And although she smiled and nodded, her mind was trapped in George’s words.

The only good thing about Dracula being quieter than usual was that, now that she couldn’t bear to know he was alone, she would seat in a sofa or in a random loveseat in their castle, with Dracula’s head in her lap, and while she slowly passed her fingers in his scalp, she would have silence and time to think. Dracula didn’t try to kill himself again, and would eat or drink whatever Martha (and only Martha) would put in front of him. It was not nearly enough, since he would vomit if she tried to give him too much, but she would have to contend herself with small victories. She wasn’t certain if he was really sleeping, but neither was she. So she was thinking, because she needed to do it right. Dracula was convinced she would leave, so he was practically attached to her hip, trying to take the most of her presence. He was also convinced that he somehow was a burden to her and that it was best if he left for good, so he tried to make himself small, quiet and almost invisible at her side, in order to not bother her. Martha didn’t know if he was suffering more from his sense of being unlovable or by the contradictory impulses he was having because of these absurd convictions. She knew only that it was not possible to continue living this way, and even if there was another way to make things right, there wasn’t enough time. She was going to take his blood and she was going to manipulate his husband’s psyche. But what would she say?

She could not say the contrary of what Dracula’s father said, because if sometime that’d change, it would be impossible for Dracula to perceive it. Also, this whole mess was probably very old, these feelings being buried inside his chest for a long time. She wanted to, but she could not try to interfere in that, because she didn’t know how much of Dracula’s personality was due this. In general, she needed to say something that was only related to that meeting, specifically. Well, that she could do. It should not be so difficult.

“Drack, love. I need you to trust me. Can you do this?”

Dracula raised his head and looked at her with a deep sad expression.

“I need a small amount of your blood. So I can make you feel better.” She said.

He looked away. After some seconds, he said, in a small voice:

“Can you make me someone you will want to stay with?”

“I love you, Dracula. I want to stay with YOU.” She answered. Even if he didn’t believe her, she knew it was true and it should be said.

“It will heal your wounds.” He said. He seemed sad about this.

“It will. But that is not why I’m asking.”

“My will, my life, everything I am… It is already yours. I would destroy myself a thousand times if you asked, regardless if you have my blood or not. You can have it. All of it.” He said, while undoing his cravat, in order to expose his pale neck to her.

Martha covered his hands with hers, until he stopped what he was doing.

“No.” She said.

She then replaced his hands with hers, and took his cape, undid his cravat and, one by one, opened the buttons of his blouse.

“Martha…” He whispered.

“You will not give me your blood because you think it is nothing. It is something utterly precious. It is not only your blood, but the control of the most powerful monster alive. Giving me your blood is more than trust, it is an act of love. I love you too. And I need you to know it. So, let me show you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Do you want me to not touch you?”

Dracula was silent.

Martha inclined forward enough to place a small kiss in his Adam apple. She could feel him basking in that touch like a flower would open to the sun. And although he seemed afraid to touch her and somehow disturb the moment, he was absorbing her heat like it was the only thing capable of maintaining him alive. With small kisses, sure touches and loving words, she steadily encouraged him let himself enjoy her attentions, and eventually participate.

Martha was married to Dracula for almost fifty years, but every time they had sex she would be amazed by how Dracula seemed to have fallen in love with her mouth, with her skin, with her hair. With her eyes. She tried to put all her love in her touch as well, in her mouth and hands. After, when they were both sated and resting, Martha took his hand and after two kisses in the palm she bit. It was a weak bite that leaved only two very small wounds in his hand. Two fine trails of blood leaked before the wounds healed. She licked them, and her world got still.


	4. Chapter 4

Only a small amount of blood and she could already feel the power in her veins. It was so much it hurt. She looked down her arms and saw her wounds healing. It was like her skin was on fire. It seemed her nails didn’t fit in the nail beds anymore and were cutting the skin. The weak light of the candles was too bright and she could not discern even her husband features anymore. Her own heartbeat was too loud for her ears, and each blow of her husband calm respiration was like a punch in her healed skin. Living was painful in that moment.

Dracula slightly tightened his hold on her waist, and she felt like she was being constricted. She almost let a small cry escape, when she remembered why she was doing that.

“Pay attention to me, Dracula.” She said, and he promptly stilled and looked inside her eyes.

“Do you remember what your father said to you when he was here?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”    

“That I am still worthless and that I don’t deserve any of this. And you will see how weak I am and leave.” He replied, mechanically.

Martha took a deep breath. He didn’t remember exactly all his father said, but remembered some of it with an absurd clarity. Probably what he took as an order.

“Dracula, you will forget he said these specific words to you and will live your life like he has never said them.  Do you understand?” She said them.

“Yes.” He replied.

“Dear, do you remember what your father said to you when he was here?”

“Something about how childish I am. Nothing unusual.” He replied. “It seems, like I am losing something… Did he say why he was here?”

“No love. How are you feeling?”

“I am… Oddly tired.” He replied.

“Rest dear… I will too.”

Dracula didn’t reply, already falling asleep. Martha did not know if he took that as an order or not, but she didn't care, either way. She stayed awake for some hours yet, but as she got used to the feel of the power running in her veins, the weight of the last days grew heavier and she also fell asleep. 

.

.

.

 

Waking was like emerging from the bottom of a lake. Dracula looked around him, and took a while to recognize his own bed, shared with his sleeping wife. He has been awaking like this for a good part of fifty years, how could the situation be so unfamiliar? He knew how. Compulsion. It made sense. His father came, ordered him something that he didn't remember. He used to remember the orders afterwards. No, it was not his father. Through the veil of a dream, he remembered Martha asking for his blood. She wanted he’d forget something. It was this something he did not remember (of course), as well as the days after his father came. What has he done?

Martha was with him. He could feel her heartbeat in his naked skin, pressed against her equally naked breasts. He could feel her breath in his neck, where her face was pressed. In her sleep, she was hugging him. Whatever he has done, she knew it was not his fault. But she thought he should forget it, and was desperate enough to ask for the most precious thing Dracula had to offer: his blood. He knows she asked and knows that he had agreed to it. If she thought it was better for him to forget, he won't try to discover what it was. But, if it was something he should forget, should Martha remember it? Would everything, ever, be fine if she did?

"Martha..." he whispered, while caressing her face with the back of his fingers. "Martha, wake up."

"No." She replied, hugging him tighter.

"I need to ask you something."

"No, you don't. Go back to sleep."

Well, apparently everything was fine. Dracula actually closed his eyes again, trying to relax enough to fall asleep again when something deep in his soul suffered a rupture.

Before he knew what it was he was crying. What started as uncontrollable  but silent tears soon enough were loud, gasping sobs. No, no, no... That was so wrong. But so, so majestic! Even before he could understand what he perceived he knew he got everything he never dared to dream for, by the cost of everything he had, everything he was.

In the haze of shattered dreams and broken reality, at some point, he heard his wife pleas for him to tell her what was wrong. And he laughed, and cried, and pleaded for that to be true and for that never happening.

Martha was pregnant. He could feel the new life forming inside her. Already growing, already powerful. It was not the unbalance he would expect of a new heir. It was like a thin beam of light in an eye too long accustomed to the dark, the fist drops of rain in a too dry soil, balm over a too severe injure or air to a drowning man. So frail, and yet so reliving it would hurt.  

When he told her, she hugged him. They cried together until the new Sunrise.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t an easy pregnancy. Actually, it almost killed Martha. It almost killed Dracula, as well. The thing is: Martha should never get pregnant from Dracula’s heir. It should be impossible. Dracula was just too strong for her. He was too strong for anybody. But in his insane state, he let his body and mind go weak, too. A body that always had trouble keeping up with his own power was frail and emaciated after the amount of weight he has lost. His mind was recovering, but there was ragged edges and sand like pieces near his erased memory that still had the potential to confound and hurt him. But more than anything, he hadn’t fully recovered from his exposure to the sun, yet. So he was at his weakest, while Martha was so much stronger that she should ever be. She had just drunk the blood of the more powerful being in the known universe, after all. That so fleeing moment, in which they reached an improbable balance, was enough for a seed finally find fertile soil and germinate. And so a new life started growing inside Martha’s body. But as the heir of darkness, it was a very demanding life.

So Martha’s body, so frail, so weak, was utterly incapable to maintain and nourish it. So, merely two day after Dracula for the first time in his long life having any hope about being a father, was really panicking about the possibility of turning into a widower. He knew the only thing he could do to save his wife, was aborting the child. It was not even a decision to make. It was either lose their child or lose both. But how could he even contemplate that? He already loved that tiny and demanding being more than his own life. He would rather slain his own throat than ever suggest that atrocity. In the third day of pregnancy, a sweaty bedridden Martha said, in a tremulous and very sad voice:

“I will never be able to keep our baby, will I?”

Dracula could not respond.

“It has been only three days. I still have twelve months to go.”

“Martha…”

“If I thought my body would take it… I would trade my life for our baby, you know? You would be a wonderful father.”

Dracula closed his eyes. He could not fathom a future in which his wife wasn’t by his side. Not anymore. And even if he wanted to believe that there was a way she could survive the pregnancy… Even if the baby could ever be strong enough to maintain her alive, like he did to his own mother… But there wasn’t any hope to that. After all, even his mother died long before the birth.

“I wish there was a way.”

“Me too.” He replied.

That night, he went to his father. The old bat gave him a cold laugh after hearing his tale.

“It is a miracle she could ever get pregnant, to begin with. What did you do? Let her feast in your open belly? Is that what turns you on?”

Dracula got out before his father could say anything more. The last thing he needed now was to get under any kind of compulsion. But when he got home and saw the pale face of a sleeping Martha, an impossible idea got struck in his mind.

“I’m sorry my love. But I’d rather let you feast in my open belly than to see any of you die.”

Dracula then opened his own wrist with his teeth and let a fine stream of blood to fall in Martha’s slighted parted lips. As soon as it touched her tongue she swallowed. And even before she had fully waken up she was seated in bed, with her teeth craved in his skin, gulping down his blood. The next night, Martha was on her feet, healthier than she ever had been.

       And Dracula was still nursing his open wrist.

As the months passed, Martha needed more and more blood from his husband, as both were getting weaker at each day. On the second month mark, Martha could not let her home any more. On the seventh month, Dracula lost the strength to hunt. Their friends came and went, but there wasn’t so much they could do for two starving vampires, that lived basically among humans, nowadays. After all, the only ones that could mingle were the vampires.

So Dracula contracted a poor teenager to work for them. The boy should go to the village and buy some cattle to Dracula’s property, and each day, let one bull separated from the others, confined and tied. At night, Dracula would drink the blood of the animal, and after having his strength restored, give Martha his blood. He would them dispose of the corpse of the animal. He paid the boy a good amount and he seemed loyal. So, he gradually started to talk to the boy, and eventually learned about the village hunger. After that, how could he simple dispose of his prey meat? For Martha’s three final months of pregnancy he gave the boy the meat for him to distribute in the village. The boy seemed dumbstruck about the low amount of blood in the flesh, but his family and neighbors were no longer starving, so who he was to complain about it? If the boy, himself, didn’t see it coming, it was no wonder that Dracula hadn’t, either.

The vampire only had eyes for his wife growing belly, and for him, only Martha and his baby girl existed. It was a mistake he would never forgive himself for making.


	6. Chapter 6

Martha gave birth to a beautiful baby girl they named Mavis. At the very same day, the castle was attacked. And Dracula was too weak to defend himself or his family. The vampire begged his wife to run and then everything was blank in the vampire’s mind. All he knew is that he awoke to the pain of his teenager servant trying to take out a wood stake from Dracula’s chest. The vampire took one look around the burning remains of his castle and wished that the boy would just leave the stake where it was: pining him to a smoking table, looking throw the fallen roof to the stars. So when the sun came, he would be able to see his family again.

“I’m so sorry, milord. I didn’t know… I couldn’t do anything…”

Dracula tried to respond, but ended coughing up a handful of blood.

“Oh God… What did I do? They need you milord. Please, try to hold on. Milady will never be able to raise the child by herself.”

That got Dracula’s attention.

“Are… Are they… Are they alive?”

“Yes milord! But I can’t… Milady does not answer me and…”

That was enough for Dracula get hold of the stake and put it out of his own chest. The vampire got gingerly to his feet and took four steps in the direction he saw his wife hurled around their newborn, screaming child, before he collapsed.

He awoke some days later, in the boy’s poor home. He had been sleeping in a borrowed bed for four days.

“I don’t like you, you know. I don’t know what kind of demon you are, or for what cost you saved my family. But you did save us all from hunger and misery, and so I had ensured your own family some days of rest. It is time you all leave us be.” The boy’s mother, a surly and rugged woman, said from the door.

Dracula nodded, before getting on his feet and going out of the room. As soon as he got out of the bedroom, Mavis came crawling and showed him a dead cat. The poor family’s long loved pet, that she had hunted down in hunger.

Dracula took the dead animal and noted that he still had a gulp of blood in it. He drank it, noticing the rooted taste of it. At least one day dead. He looked around, and saw his wife hunched in a corner, embracing her own knees, that he could see in her blooded and ragged once white night gown. Picking his daughter with one hand, he slowly approached his wife. Once he got near her, she looked at him. There was not recognition in her eyes.

“Milord…” His servant said. The only one daring to approach him.

“What happened?”

“The village attacked the castle… As soon as they hit you, milady went berserk. In her rage, she destroyed the castle. With some kind of witchery she made the men fly and smashed their bodies to the ground. Who could run, ran. I went there as soon as I could but there was nothing I could do… I’m so sorry…”

Dracula took a deep breath. For the looks of it, Martha has seen Dracula being staked and thought him dead. And then lost the hold of the borrowed powers she temporally acquired from Dracula’s blood.

“Oh dear…” He said, while trying to grasp her hands.

As soon as he touched her, she started screaming. When the roof of the small house started to shake, the boy’s mother cried that they should leave.

In a fluke of magic, Dracula made his wife sleep. He then took her in his thin arms, and after securing her against his blooded chest, took his daughter from the floor and left. Running into the night, as far as he could go from the ruins of his castle.

Early in the week, Dracula found himself with everything he could ever hope for: an immortal mate and a beautiful immortal daughter. Even at the loss of his former live, he knew he should be insanely grateful that he still had his family. He would just to guarantee that his supposedly immortal family would stay alive enough to see another moonrise. The odds were against him, but he surely as hell would make it.

He was a man that had everything he never dared to hope for and he would make sure that he would keep that, at any cost. He was the Prince of Darkness after all, and he would protect his kin, even if he needed to cover the world in darkness again. With a new Dark Heir, it would only be fitting if a new Dark Era aroused.    

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!


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